Photographers, you will never become artists. All you are is mere copiers.
It would perhaps be nice to be alternately the victim and the executioner.
To the solemn graves, near a lonely cemetery, my heart like a muffled drum is beating funeral marches.
Blessed art Thou, Lord, who giveth suffering As a divine remedy for our impurities.
The form of a town changes more swiftly alas! Than the heart of a mortal.
On the day when a young writer corrects his first proof-sheet he is as proud as a schoolboy who has just got his first dose of pox.